“Well, boys,” said the leader, “you have had a bad time of it lately; but I think your Transvaal troubles are about over—for the present, at least.”
He had kindly brown eyes, and an open fearless look about him that greatly took with our heroes. Also, in spite of his late exertions, he did not appear to be the least bit fatigued.
“Thanks to you, sir, and these gentlemen, we have achieved what would have been impossible otherwise,” answered Ned.
“Yes; I own that Kruger’s country is not easy to get out of, when the owners want to keep you. One thing this ride has done, I fear—closed a good road in or out for any future trekker. By Jove! there will be a nice kick-up over this affair, and no mistake. You’ll have to make yourselves scarce for a while.”
“But surely we are quite safe in Rhodesia?” asked Ned.
“Well, that remains to be seen. Kruger will make a mountain out of this ant-hill. Cables will be sent to the Home Government, demanding their prisoners to be arrested and returned to them, and large indemnities for the potted burghers.”
“And what will the British Government do?”
“Sacrifice you, without a pause, to pacify the old man of Pretoria, and us also, if we can be traced.”
“Then we have got you into a bad fix, I fear,” said Ned, regretfully.
“Oh, don’t concern yourselves about us; we are ready with our alibis,” answered the leader, with a merry laugh. “These gentlemen have been on the sick list in Bulawayo hospital for the past three weeks, while I have been looking after the health of my friend and chief, Cecil Rhodes.”